Most football fans have had to accept the disheartening reality that, no matter how much they wish to live the life of a footballer, they simply lack the capacity to become the sport’s next international superstar. However, it’s possible that the dream is still alive.
We know most of the well-known footballers for their skills such as Lionel Messi, David Beckham, Cristiano Ronaldo and many more. But do you know about a player that became famous even without ever kicking a ball? What if there was a way to gain access to sports vehicles, adoration, and lucrative football contracts without ever kicking a ball?
Meet Carlos Kaiser
Carlos Henrique Raposo, who was born in April 1963, always knew he wanted to make it great in Brazil’s football culture. According to him, he was given the nickname ‘Kaiser’ after Franz Beckenbauer, one of the world’s most renowned players at the time. Some of his buddies, however, dispute this, claiming that it was in reference to the Beer brand because their bottles were unusually wide.
Carlos began his childhood career with a great level of fitness but little more, as coaches and players quickly discovered. His teammates would have laughed at the prospect of him pursuing a career in football since he lacked skill with the ball at his feet.
Kaiser was hired as a footballer for a number of notable Rio de Janeiro clubs for almost 20 years in the 1980s and 1990s. He, on the other hand, never played a game or even kicked a ball. He lived the high life for all those years: he was a nightclub king and a party animal. He was good-looking, a fantastic dancer, a legendary womanizer, and a devoted Speedo wearer. He did everything a footballer should do, except play the game. He feigned to have heard an opposing fan shout abuses at the chairman the one time he was pushed onto the field during a game, leaped into the crowd to create a brawl, and was accordingly sent off.
Carlos returned to Brazil after his stint in Mexico, where he made great friendships in the Rio de Janeiro nightlife scene. Professional players and sports journalists were among those who took part. Clubs would swallow these lies and sign the player on short trial contracts after the former put in good words with managers and the latter created bogus stories in the newspaper about his career. After that, he’d claim to be short on match fitness and only do regular fitness training for a few weeks until he could fake a hamstring injury.
Due to the lack of MRI scans at the time, this worked perfectly. He’d finish the short-term trial contract, which normally lasted three months, and then start over. He’d further bolster his ruse by pretending to call about transfer offers on phony cellphones. Injuries were difficult to argue during this time, thus owners and managers would frequently “take his word for it.” Because alternative information was not readily available, this was also true for his journalist accomplices.
Finally, Kaiser’s nightclub adventures had positioned him as the unofficial pimp to every top football talent in Rio. He provided the girls, and it was handy for everyone to pretend that he was a player and a member of the establishment.
In 2018, Carlos, had a bad hip and poor eyesight, and also converted to Buddhism and realized his lifelong ambition of becoming a fitness coach who works with female bodybuilders.
He claimed he had never loved football and that it was not his cup of tea. He’s not proud of what he did, and he regrets not seizing the opportunities that were presented to him. If he had put the same effort into playing as he did in convincing everyone that he was a brilliant footballer, he may have been the wonderful footballer everyone thought he was.
Also, there’s a movie made about Carlos Kaiser that you can catch on Amazon Prime and IMDb. A movie that is so fantastical that it’s hard to believe it’s real. The film, directed by Louis Myles, is a stunning ode to a man who grew into a peculiar kind of a legend in his own right. Despite his shithouse behavior, Kaiser is regarded by many as the quintessential Carioca, and this documentary surely pays homage to his colorful samba stylings. The film is a treat to see, with vintage material, celebrity interviews, engaging narration, gloriously trashy 80s song, and Raposo himself.
Sources: Last Word On Sports, IMDb, The Guardian, Irish Mirror, Joe